


Nightmares

by goddess_of_flowers_and_death



Series: Little Hunter AU [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Violence, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 18:02:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14795303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddess_of_flowers_and_death/pseuds/goddess_of_flowers_and_death
Summary: Raising children in this life isn't easy. Once a sense of safety is lost, it's never really regained.





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Dean is fifteen. Sam is eleven. Adam is five, almost six. 
> 
> There is context for this, but somehow I feel better posting this first and the fuller explanation second, since I wrote this before its prequel. I made this AU to save everyone, but the result was just more situations like this.

Sometimes it marveled Dean just how small Adam was. Was Sam ever this small? He vaguely remembered him being this tiny, but it was so long ago. Was _Dean_ ever this small? No way.

The kid fit in his arms too neatly, tucked completely in his lap, tiny hand fisted in Dean's nightshirt. One foot was missing its sock, and the cold toes were curled tensely right over a tear in the teenager's sweatpants, so he could feel the tiniest bit of icy flesh poking through. Dean's arms were wrapped tightly around the shivering form, hand running across short blonde hair in an attempt to soothe.

"Mommy, Mommy," the kid was muttering into Dean's shirt. Dean wondered if he even knew where he was, that he was talking aloud. If he could feel his brother's gentle touch. "It hurts, please, it hurts."

"It's okay, kiddo," Dean murmured into his little brother's hair. "It's alright. You're safe. They can't get you, okay? You're safe."

Sam quietly burst back into the bedroom, a fresh set of sheets and a glass of water in his hands. "How is he?" he breathed, catching his breath a little after sprinting back and forth across the tiny apartment. "Did he say what he dreamt about?"

"What else would he dream about?" Dean snapped. He sighed, held his breath for a second, and then let it out, letting Adam feel his calm, deliberate breathing pattern. This wasn't Sam's fault. Sam was doing everything he could, and he was doing _amazing_. Dean couldn't have done this without him. They were slowly working out a system when this happened. "Sorry, Sammy. Just . . . change the sheets. I'll see if I can get him to drink any of the water."

When he tried to pull back a little, the youngest Winchester clung tighter, sobbing into his big brother's chest. Sobbing quietly, like he was scared of getting found. Like he was hiding.

Sam quickly abandoned the soiled sheets. "Adam? Adam, buddy, it's okay. We're here." He looked up and met Dean's gaze, blinking back the excess moisture shining in his eyes. "We won't let anything happen to you, okay?"

"Go change the sheets, Sammy," Dean smiled sadly, nodding in acknowledgement. "I got this."

As Sam finished stripping the urine-stained sheets from the small bed wedged in the corner of the cramped bedroom, Dean tried again to pull back a little from his baby brother, just to meet his eyes, maybe get him to see that he wasn't there anymore. Sometimes, when Dean would . . . Sometimes it helped just to see the room, to know you were somewhere else. Once again, the child only clung closer, voice rising a little, choking out the words between hitching breaths. " _Don't, please, Mommy._ "

"Hey. Hey! Adam, it's okay! It's not--" The teen cut himself off. It's not real? It sure as hell _was_ real. "It's not real anymore, okay? That's over, kiddo. You're okay." He rocked back and forth, ruffling and smoothing the little boy's hair in turn, and bit his lip. He was totally out of his depth here. He and Sam had seen some crap, but . . . this was . . . This was different. He could barely remember his own mother's death anymore, and Adam was . . . He was just a kid. It wasn't like with Dean.  

Sam was neatly stretching thread-bare sheets over the corners of the mattress, eying his two brothers with a tight frown. "Should we . . . ?" Dean looked up to see him fiddling with Adam's pillow. "Should we take him to . . . a therapist or something?"

Dean snorted. "And tell them what? Ghouls ate his mom and took a few bites out of him? They'd think we were crazy, Sammy." Adam didn't stop his steady stream of words, but Dean could swear his fist tightened at the word "ghouls". Dean breathed more words of comfort into his hair and rocked him a few times before going on a little softer. "There's nothing we can do but this, Sam. Now finish his sheets. I'd like to see if we can get him to sleep a little more before morning. I've got work, and I'd prefer a few hours of sleep before that."

Sam nodded tightly and went back to his work, not looking entirely satisfied. Dean couldn't blame him. He wasn't really satisfied with the answer either. But what could they do? Eventually Adam would grow up and not forget, but be able to push it down better, like every other Hunter introduced to the life through shit like this.

The bedroom door creaked open, and Dean jumped sharply, nearly jarring Adam off of his lap. Their father stood tensely in the dim doorway, shotgun clutched low at his side.

"I heard you boys up," he stated, almost uncertainly. "Is it Adam again?"

Dean nodded, melting a little with the idea of support in this. Adam might not usually wake up screaming, but their dad wasn't a heavy sleeper. He probably heard Sam running around for clean sheets. "He won't calm down." Dad would know what to do.

John knelt, rubbing a hand over Adam's trembling back. "Adam, buddy?" The kid's grip tightened on Dean's shirt, but he didn't pull away. "Adam, it's Dad. You're okay, buddy. Can you hear me? You're alright now."

As much as Dean tried to push down the sudden thought, he could tell: their dad was just as lost as him. None of them had nightmares quite like this, not anymore. Even after . . . Dean had learned to calm himself after those though, so he didn't scare his brother, brothers now. He didn't wake anyone up after those anymore. And he wasn't a little kid then. Those were different. And when their dad had nightmares, he dealt with them alone. Usually with liquor. That wasn't really an option with Adam; they couldn't even get him to turn around and sip water.

John stood, standing uneasily in the dark room. "You've got the sheets, Sam?"

"Yeah, Dad." Sam kicked lightly at the pile of urine-smelling cloth by his feet.

Their father carefully gathered up the pile and left the room, presumably to dump it by the door or something so it wouldn't stink up their room all night. He trudged back in a few seconds later. "I'll take those to the laundromat in the morning," he muttered, leaning against the door, hand empty of the shotgun.

"Dad." John looked up. Dean had managed to stand, his baby brother still wrapped up in his arms, clutching tighter than ever, still muttering to himself. "Go to bed. You've got work in the morning. I've got this."

The older man looked conflicted. "You sure about this, Dean?"

Dean smirked and gestured vaguely to the trembling body in his arms. "I'm not getting him off me anytime soon. I've got this, Dad. Go back to sleep."

John took a short step forward and gave Dean an affectionate tap on the cheek. "Good boy." He smiled briefly and waved his hand at Sammy. "Go back to bed, Sam. There's nothing more you can do. Dean, try to get some sleep."

Dean nodded at his father's retreating form and then nodded his head towards Sam's bed. "Go on. Into bed."

Sam reluctantly crawled between the sheets, taking the time first to pick up the cup of water he had brought and set it on Dean's bedside table. Dean sat down on his own bed, still holding the five-year-old tightly in his arms, tracing up and down his hair as he quietly sobbed. It was a wonder he hadn't run out of tears yet.

"Are you sure there's nothing more I can do?" Sam murmured, sleep already tugging at his voice.

"I'm sure. Now go to sleep, bitch."

"Jerk." Sam trailed off, drawn rapidly back into the sleep he had been sharply pulled out of by the quiet sobbing from the bed next to his. These frequent midnight interruptions were starting to take their toll on his sleep.

Adam cried for another half an hour before finally quieting down, his murmurs halting softly and his grip loosening ever so slightly.

"Adam?" Dean breathed, stilling his motions of comfort.

"Dean?" The kid actually pulled back and looked up, voice weak and tremulous, but under his control again. And there was recognition in his eyes.

"Yeah, kiddo." A smile cracked across Dean's face, and he reached for the water, offering a small sip to his brother. The child accepted it gently, still trembling, but seeming to have worked the panic out of his system. "Hey, kiddo, you good? You okay? You're safe, you know that?"

"I dreamt . . . I dreamt they were there, and--" Adam's breaths hitched, threatening to switch back into panic mode.

"Hey, hey, it's okay!" Dean soothed, hand running up and down his back, fingers tracing over the bandages on his side. He would definitely check for bleeding before letting the boy go to bed, but last he saw, the ragged gashes were healing nicely. "It's okay. You're safe now. You're safe."

"Is my mommy still dead?"

Dean froze. The room went quiet, heavy in the thick shadows of summer nighttime. "Y-Yeah, kiddo. Your mom . . . Your mom died. That part was real."

Dean held his breath, but Adam just nodded, like he knew that, but he just wanted to be sure.

"But hey," Dean continued softly, trying not to wake Sam back up, but when he glanced over, the preteen was sitting up quietly in bed, watching hopefully as Adam stifled hiccups and brushed away tears. "Hey, you've got us, huh? You've got me and Sammy? And you've got Dad, and he'll keep us all safe, right? He'll always keep us safe, so there's nothing to worry about."

Adam nodded silently again, then threw himself forward, wrapping his arms tightly over Dean's shoulders. "I love you, Dean."

Dean's breathing stopped for a second as the weight of the child hit him. And a second after. "I . . . I love you too, buddy." He pushed Adam gently backwards again, squeezing his shoulders softly. "Let's get you to bed, okay? Let's . . ." Dean took a quiet whiff. "Let's get you some fresh pajamas, okay?"

Sam was at his side the moment he stood from the bed, taking Adam from his arms and freeing him up to grab fresh pajama pants and tiny underwear from the lopsided dresser. Dean passed the clothes off to Sam and took the opportunity to change his own pants, dumping the sweatpants, which were speckled with little pee stains from Adam's soiled pajamas on his lap, into the laundry bag in the corner. Sam silently maneuvered the younger boy out of his pajamas, wetting one of the pant legs of the soiled pair with the cup of water and wiping down Adam's sticky legs to get the residual pee from him before putting the fresh pair on. Dean even noticed him taking a quick peek at the pristine bandages wrapped across the boy's ribs and stomach then looking up and shaking his head once at Dean. No fresh blood. None of the stitches had ripped. Dean breathed out a sigh of relief.

After Adam and Dean had changed into fresh pajamas, Sam handed the younger boy off to Dean again and left with the laundry bag and the cup, setting the bag next to the sheets by the door and dumping the tap water down the drain. Dean moved to put Adam back into his bed, all cleaned and calmed. But as Dean turned to return to his own bed, a tiny hand clung to his shirt.

"Adam? I have to go to bed. I've got work in the morning." Adam bit his lip but kept his grip tight on Dean's ragged hem. Dean turned fully around and gently tugged the little fingers off. "Look, I'll be right over there, 'kay? I'll keep you safe. There's nothing to worry about."

Adam frowned, but he kept his hand where Dean set it, not reaching up again. With a satisfied nod, Dean stumbled the few steps it took to reach his own bed and collapsed, the adrenaline of the night quickly seeping out of him. He was exhausted into his _bones_. Sam was back soon and made his way over to Adam's bed to make sure the boy was settled. Adam did the same routine with him, clinging to his hand-me-down pajama top as he tried to leave. Sam, however, caved at the first sign of those big sad eyes.

"You okay, Adam?" Adam was silent, biting his lip harder. "You wanna sleep in my bed tonight?"

Dean huffed as Sam hauled the skinny five-year-old out of his bed and over to Sam's. "He's never gonna learn to sleep on his own if you keep that up."

"It's just for tonight," Sam replied, settling in next to the tiny addition to the family. "Get some sleep, Dean."

"Yeah, good night." Sleep reached in and tugged him down, but he resisted for a moment to look at his baby brothers curled up around each other on the sagging mattress. With a self-conscious grimace, the teen stood and padded over to the full bed, reaching out and tucking the thin summer comforter over Sam and Adam's slim shoulders. They looked so small beside one another, Sam's twiggy little arm massive compared to Adam's little matchsticks poking out from under the covers. After making sure all their limbs were adequately covered by the sheets and blankets, Dean took a final moment to smile down at them before returning to his own rumpled bedsheets.

He was asleep in a matter of seconds.

He was awake again in less than three hours to the sound of Adam's little panicked breaths.

**Author's Note:**

> Heeeeey, so here's the story for this AU:
> 
> There's a lot of it. It gets pretty different from the original show, and a lot of the monsters and lore are different, which complicates things a lot. Most of it, I wrote over a year ago now with big plans, and those plans are still around, but as it is now, this story is all in little bits and pieces that may or may not change as the plot gets filled out. I've just decided to post some of the stuff I have and go from there. I am still writing this AU, but along with a few other stories, some fanfiction and some original. I'm not a very consistent writer, especially with updates, and I find the whole process of sharing my work with anyone kind of stressful (thanks anxiety and perfectionism), so I prefer to post stand-alone one-shots that all fit together, so I don't have to deal with chaptered fics or regular updates. Sorry for that. 
> 
> So here's this. I'll probably post more angsty one-shots a little out of context later. The Winchester family ones are a bit fluffier compared to the ones about the angels in this AU, so . . . Anyways, I'll try to give explanations as they're necessary since I'm just throwing bits and pieces out there, but . . . that doesn't always happen. Sorry. Ask me if something doesn't make sense; there's a chance I just forgot to explain it (or it just doesn't make sense, whatever). As a side note, in terms of explanations, what Dean is avoiding thinking about isn't Mary's death or the nightmares he had when he was four after that. It's something entirely different, and I'd like to get that worked out and explain it all at once rather than go into it now. Take a guess if you like! It is a canon event, just very different. 
> 
> Also, if you have a prompt for this AU or something you'd like to see, post it in the comments and I may or may not get to it. Thanks for reading and for your patience!
> 
> -Persephone
> 
> Supernatural isn't mine. That's what fanfiction is for.


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